


Otherside

by GypsyUpir



Category: Castle Rock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, M/M, Mentions of Infertility, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Rough Sex, Some Fluff, cute husbands, graphic birth, major death, pregnant Kid/Henry Deaver
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 12:41:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18011093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GypsyUpir/pseuds/GypsyUpir
Summary: The truth was he wanted this child; he had always wanted it. And now, it was all he had left.





	1. Prologue

  
The sun coming in through the windows of the examination room burned his eyes as he glanced around, the strangers’ faces all blurring together as they surrounded him.

They were asking him questions, he knew that, but the voices sounded muffled, like they were coming to him from under water. Even if he could understand, he wouldn’t answer.

He’d been there, right under their noses, for 27 years and they never had a clue. Where the fuck had they been all this time? 

Besides, no one would believe him. That’s how he got here in the first place. People were cautious here, mistrusting to the point of hostility if they were forced to question themselves enough. 

Beliefs were things to be held firm, never doubted and certainly never challenged. He himself had been seen as a challenge, a dangerous one that needed to be contained for the greater good.

He was no longer contained, finally gaining some semblance of freedom in this strange world. But aside from that small taste of independence, he had nothing. The only weapon at his disposal was his silence, and he would hold on to it with the lethal grip of a viper.

Words couldn’t be disbelieved if there were none.

“You got a name?” The portly processing guard sat in front of him, the man struggling to make eye contact as he asked his obligatory questions. He wouldn’t give them that, either. It hurt just being out of the darkness, his eyes couldn’t focus on anything if he tried.

The guard cleared his throat, speaking a bit louder, but his tone still gentle. “How did you get down there, son? Who put you in that hole?”

 _I did_ , he thinks. _That’s what he always told me._ He knew that was a lie at first. But after a while, he found himself starting to believe it.

The guard scratches at his beard with a sigh and glances up at one of the medics Shawshank had on staff as he gets out of his seat. “I’ll leave him to you for a while,” he said before silently seeing himself out.

The medics approached him slowly, uttering soft assurances that they weren’t going to hurt him, they just needed to check him over. He made no attempt to run or resist, but was no more eager to share information than he had been before. His eyes, ears, and reflexes were checked, his blood was drawn and his temperature and BP was taken.

Eventually, he was passed off to another guard to be taken to the showers for a much needed cleaning and a shave. He willingly participated in it all, albeit in uneasy silence, but he was cooperative, at least.

Once they finished up with him, he was back in the examination room, burning holes into the floor to avoid being talked to. It was bad enough having the people in the room gawk at him, but he was aware of the many pairs of prying eyes peeking in at him through the big Plexiglas windows of the exam room. He knew he must’ve been quite the sight to behold, but all the sudden attention actually made him kind of miss the isolation.

Just then, the door swings open and three armed guards escort a business suit-clad woman inside. He looks up just enough to see the badge swinging from a beaded lanyard around her neck.

THERESA PORTER

WARDEN

Oh, yes, that’s right. This must be the new blood. Good ol’ self-righteous Warden Lacy, the one who put him down below, was no more. He knew exactly where the old man was, and he nearly smiled. Guess who was in a hole now?

He gave her a quick once over. This new warden was tall with a no-nonsense pinch to her face, and she looked at him with an odd mix of fascination and annoyance. By default, he liked her more than he did Lacy, but not by much.

“Hello?” she said to him softly. “Young man, who are you?”

He looked back down at the ground. He couldn’t believe how clean his feet now were. It actually felt kind of nice.

“What’s your name?” the warden then asked, her voice harshly grating through the quiet. Silence fell around them again as he ignored the question.

The warden grunted impatiently. “Can he hear me? Have you checked his ears?”

One of the medics speaks up. “Yes, ma’am. His hearing’s just fine.”

“Has he said anything to you?”

“Not a word,” the other medic answers.

The warden squats down a bit, trying to get on his eye level. “ _Hello?_ ” she says again, the authority in her tone making him shrink a bit but ultimately unable to further ignore her.

Finally, he looks up at her, and to his surprise, an inkling of a smile breaks through the tough exterior of her face. “Can you tell us your name? We’d really like to know who you are.”

In the split second that his eyes meet hers, his gaze catches something else. Just beyond her, two more guards watch curiously at the window. One of them is obviously just there to be a busy-body, but the other watches him intently with an almost painful looking amount of concern.

The breath is trapped in his throat as he realizes…he _knows_ that face. It was a face he once used to see looking back at him in bed every morning, a face that would serve him a cup of coffee or homemade dinner with a loving smile, a face that liked to surprise him on especially stressful days at work.

It was a face he _loved_ …and feared he would never see again.

The warden notices his eyes avert from hers and follows his line of sight behind her, noticing the two guards.

“You said Boyd and Zalewski found him?” she asks one of the guards that accompanied her.

“Yes, ma’am. When they were searching the basement.”

Oh, God. That face…it _was_ him. It really was…

A small, agonized sob escapes from his throat suddenly, and his vision goes black before he falls from the examination table, collapsing face-first onto the cold tile floor.

 


	2. Before

From the bathroom, Henry could hear the rigorous tapping of Dennis’ boot on the hardwood floor of the hallway. It was a nervous habit of his that Henry was more than understanding of, but a few minutes of it was enough to drive him up the wall.

Under any other circumstances, it would make the task at hand nearly impossible for Henry to concentrate on, but in a moment like this, a little anxiety was welcome. If Dennis was nervous, that meant at least a little part of him still had some hope, which was more than Henry could say for himself.

He completed his business and stepped out of the bathroom, Dennis turning around at the sound of him and looking up with expectant eyes.

“Well?” Dennis said.

“It takes three minutes,” Henry smirked at his husband. “You know that.”

“Yeah…” Dennis looked down, fiddling with his hands.

Aside from the impatient tap-tap-tap-tap the sole of Dennis’ armor boots made against the floor, the space around them was silent and heavy with possibility. The result of yet another month of hard work was forming on the edge of their bathroom sink, and Henry could feel his positivity waning.

It was going on eight months since they decided they were ready to start their family, and their mission to conceive was beginning to look futile. The first couple of months seemed pretty promising, but with every failed attempt after that, Henry wondered if there was some cosmic intervention at play that they were turning a blind eye to. Sometimes, these things just weren’t in the cards, no matter how badly you wanted them.

Henry also knew that he was easily discouraged, whereas Dennis possessed a strong-willed determination that was hard to say no to. In this case, Dennis’ perpetual insistence was mostly the product of his desire to make Henry happy, knowing a baby would make him happiest of all.

However, if fate had other plans for them, that had to be accepted at some point. Henry found that he’d already begun to do so. But he wasn’t sure Dennis ever would.

“I have a really good feeling about this time,” Dennis said, that unwavering optimism shining brightly in his face.

Henry chuckled with a roll of his eyes. “You always say that.”

“I always mean it, though,” Dennis smiled, holding out a hand to him.

Henry offered a tiny smile and lightly grabbed onto Dennis’ fingers. “It’s probably been three minutes…” he said, turning around and heading back into the bathroom with Dennis close behind.

He didn’t even bother holding his breath this time as he stepped toward the sink, his eyes habitually falling on the little result window of the test. And, also habitually, he saw just one faint pink line.

With a heavy sigh, he picked up the test without a second glance and handed it to Dennis, whose face slightly fell at the result.

He forced a puff of air out through his lips, replacing his frown with a casual pertness before looking at Henry. “Welp! Not _this_ month, but…there’s another month coming.”

Henry pursed his lips together and nodded at what had become Dennis’ monthly mantra. He might’ve believed it the first three or four times, but now he thought it was just something Dennis felt he had to say, as if it would somehow lessen the sting.

He sat down roughly on top of the toilet seat, avoiding Dennis’ upbeat expression, not wanting to share in it. He was anything but upbeat about it at this point.

Dennis tossed the test into the sink and came to stand in front of a despondent Henry, lightly running a finger down the length of his cheek.

“Hey,” Dennis said, using a knuckle to raise Henry’s chin toward him. Henry glumly looked up at him. “Don’t make that face.”

“What face?” Henry asked flatly.

“That one…The face you make when you’re downing yourself,” Dennis said. “I don’t want to see that.”

“I’m not downing myself,” Henry replied.

“Henry,” Dennis cooed. “It’s gonna happen, babe. We’re just not giving it enough time.”

Henry looked up at him with exasperation. “It’s been _eight months_ , Dennis…and nothing. How much time are we supposed to give it?”

“I don’t know, Henry. I…I don’t think there’s a time constraint on these things.”

“There will be when I’m pushing 40 and we still don’t have a kid,” Henry snipped.

“That’s not gonna happen, alright? I mean…” Dennis sighed, searching for the right words. “Okay, so we’re not having the best luck right now, but that doesn’t mean it’s gonna be this way forever. You know, we talked about this at the very beginning, that we were just gonna go with the flow and take the months as they came. I know you’re getting frustrated, so am I. But I don’t want us to give up on this.”

Henry could feel the mist forming in his eyes and he quickly sniffed it away. “I don’t want to give up on it, either. But…could we just…maybe take a break or something? I just…I’m tired of getting my hopes up month after month after month, and then having nothing to show for it. It hurts, Dennis.”

Now he was crying, just a little, and the sight of his sadness made Dennis’ heart ache. Kneeling down, Dennis took Henry in his arms and held him closely to his chest.

“I know it does, honey… You know, maybe we could take a little break. We’re probably putting too much pressure on ourselves, anyway. Let’s just… _be_ for a while, and then when you feel like you wanna give it another go, I’ll be right there.”

Henry pulled away from Dennis and wiped his eyes, relief rolling through him like a current. He’d wanted to have this conversation after last month’s failure, but he didn’t have the heart to damper Dennis’ all-too-eager optimism.

But now, he was tired…tired and certain that he couldn’t stomach another negative, not so soon after this one. He needed a break from his disappointment, and he knew on some level, Dennis probably did, too. It was the right decision, for now.

He felt better about all this, until he was once again faced with the question that always came to mind, but he never voiced. And, to his credit, he tried to keep it quiet, but…

“What if I can’t?” he asked, disbelieving that he actually said it.

“Can’t what?”

“What if I can’t get pregnant? What if all this has just been…a waste of time?”

With a sigh, Dennis leaned back against the sink and was thoughtful for a moment, Henry feeling suddenly nauseous at the sound of his silence. Finally, Dennis met his eyes.

“If you can’t…then you can’t,” he said. “I don’t think that’s the case, but… A baby isn’t gonna make or break us. And I hope to God that’s not what you were thinking.”

Henry looked down, the shame beginning to simmer in his cheeks. The next thing he knew, Dennis had his hand held out to him and he took it, letting Dennis lift him back onto his feet. Grabbing his waist, Dennis pulled him close and looked sincerely into his eyes.

“I love you. Whether we have a kid or not isn’t going to change that,” Dennis said. “If, down the road, we’re still trying and it’s not happening, there are other options. I mean, adoption, surrogacy…hell, I’ll even take a desk seat for 9 months if that’s what it takes.”

Henry laughed, finally. They’d decided from the get-go that Henry would be the one to carry their babies. With being on the police force, they feared pregnancy would be much too difficult for Dennis. Granted, he’d likely be on desk duty for the duration, but he’d despise it. Dennis lived for the action on the streets.

Besides, he really didn’t _want_ to be the pregnant one…but Henry did, with every fiber in his body. And the fact that they’d been trying for so long and there still wasn’t a baby inside of him made his heart hurt in a way he never thought possible.

It was crucial for them to take a break now, before his heart broke completely.

“If you really are that concerned about it, we can go talk to a doctor, but…We have time, Henry. And if we really want a family, we’ll make it happen in one way or another,” Dennis said, that sunny smile returning to his face. “But if we need to take a breather for a while, I’m all for it.”

Henry leaned in and planted a hard kiss on Dennis’ lips, his reassurance overwhelming. It embarrassed him to think of how fearful he was of this conversation going in the opposite direction. He knew Dennis could very well be disappointed at the prospect of giving the baby-making a rest, but even if he was, he would never make Henry feel guilty about it.

And Henry knew that, but he couldn’t help the worry.

“I love you,” Henry said.

“Back at ya,” Dennis replied. Then, his eyes widened in realization. “Oh, shit! What time is it? We told Molly and Declan we’d meet them at 6:30.”

Henry looked down at his wrist watch. “Ooh, about a quarter til 6:00.”

“You still wanna go? I mean, if you don’t feel up to it, I’m sure they’d understand.”

“Yeah! I’m fine,” Henry shrugged. “We’re taking a break, remember?”

Dennis started unbuttoning the shirt of his uniform as he tromped out of the bathroom. “Okay, just let me get changed and we can head out.”

Henry nodded silently, his eyes drifting over to the pregnancy test that was still in the bottom of the sink. Maybe, in a few months, that test would finally have two pink lines instead of one and then they’d really have a reason to go out.

That’s what he hoped, but he wasn’t counting on it.

~*~*~*~

McGrady’s Bar & Tavern was the local hole in the wall that the four of them had been going to for nearly a decade. Henry met Declan Knowles his second year of med school, the two becoming fast friends and eventually roommates. They both majored in psychiatrics, Declan taking the therapeutic approach while Henry ventured more toward specializing in mental disorders.

Right now, he was leading a team on Alzheimer’s research. His mother was diagnosed with an early on-set case a couple of years ago and Henry was determined to learn all he could about it, almost to the point of obsession.

Declan proposed to his high school sweetheart, aspiring real estate agent, Molly Strand, not long after Henry started dating Dennis, who was working night security at the hospital Henry was interning with.

The four of them formed their own little group, and two weddings and a couple of Knowles kiddos later, they still tried to get together at least one Friday night a month to escape the trials of adult life. Watching Molly and Declan as parents only affirmed Dennis and Henry’s desire to have children of their own, and since they started trying to get pregnant, their friends had been an incredible support system.

Especially Molly; if anyone could possibly be more amped up about them having a baby, it was her.

“Oh, my Christ, I needed this,” Molly practically swooned as she took a swig of the beer in her frosted glass. Dennis took a hearty drink of his own as Henry left his untouched, instead favoring the basket of complimentary peanuts.

“Four open houses this week, can you believe that? Four! I’ve never had that many so close together,” Molly lamented. “I’m so tired of people…and of smiling.”

“Dear God, not smiling…” Henry said in mock horror.

“Right?? It’s awful. You know me; I can only fake a cheery disposition for so long. I almost slapped this one lady! I…” Molly took a deep breath with a shake of her head. “Nope. Not gonna open that one tonight.”

“You know, I’d pay good money to watch you just start whaling on somebody,” Dennis said. “That’d be a hell of a show.”

“Oh, would it, _Officer_ Zalewski?” Molly teased.

“What? I would,” Dennis shrugged, taking another drink. “So, where’s your husband tonight?”

“Oh, you know…” Molly waved her hand dismissively. “A client here, a client there, another late evening. Story of my life.” She said it without a hint of malice. Every time she talked about her husband and his work, she beamed with pride.

Her eyes drifted over to Henry, who had been unusually quiet since they arrived, and hadn’t even made an attempt at his drink. Very unlike him.

“Honey, what’s up? You don’t like your beer?” she asked, reaching over to pat the hand that was fishing around in the peanuts.

Henry looked up at her in surprise. “Huh? Oh, no, it’s fine. I’m just…not in the mood right now, I guess.”

Molly’s gaze fell on the full glass of beer again, and she suddenly gasped, an elated smile bursting from her face.

“You’re not drinking… Oh, my God, Henry! Are you—”

Dennis frantically waved his hand at her and shook his head, her cheeks turning a bright red once the message is received. Henry gave her a tight smile, feeling genuinely bad for her embarrassment.

“No,” he said. “Not this month.”

Molly covered her face with her hands. “God, I’m sorry…” she said quietly. “I just…I’m sorry, guys.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Henry said gently. “It’s okay. Actually, um…we’re taking a break for a while. It was getting to be too stressful.”

“Oh…” Molly said. “Well, if it’s stressing you out, then by all means. You guys can…focus on _you_.”  

Both Dennis and Henry nodded absently, an uncomfortable silence falling over the table. Then, as if sent down by God himself, Declan came rushing through the front door, briefcase still hanging from his hand.

“Sorry… So sorry, guys. I’m here,” Declan rambled.

“Hey!” the three of him greeted him brightly, thankful to have a distraction from the awkwardness. Declan leaned down and placed a quick kiss on Molly’s lips before dropping the briefcase by his feet and slipping out of his jacket.

“I got here as fast I could, I had a couple of sessions that ran late,” Declan explained, but before he could settle in his seat, Dennis was out of his.

“It’s all good, man! Hey, I owe you a drink, remember?”

Declan looked up at him with a smarmy grin. “Oh yeah,” he said. “Pay up, man.”

“Well, get your ass to the bar. Pick your poison,” Dennis motioned to the front of the bar, Declan following behind like a puppy.

“Oh, boy…” Molly sighed, taking another long drink of her beer.

Henry continued to pick through the bowl of peanuts, his glass of beer beginning to sweat with neglect. He could feel Molly’s eyes on him, could feel her worry and sympathy falling over him like a torrential rain, and it made his stomach clench.

He peered up at her, a smile forcing itself across his lips, one that she could see right through.

Once again, she reached out and touched his hand. “I know it’s frustrating, Henry.”

The smile crumpled from his face. “Yeah…” he said. “I mean, we’ve been at it for months, almost constantly. I’ve been trying to eat right, take vitamins. I…I don’t know what else to do.”

She gave him a pointed look. “Are you sure _you’re_ the problem?”  

He thought back to what Dennis said earlier, that they’d go to a doctor if they had to, and for a moment, he considered seriously suggesting it to him later. If something really is wrong, they should find out sooner rather than later.

No. No, they’d already agreed to let the baby thing lie for a while. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore, anyway.

“I don’t know,” Henry replied, knawing on a peanut. “Couldn’t hurt to check, but…I think for right now, we just need a break, ya know? We’re tired. And maybe we’re just trying too hard.”

Molly nods. “That’s very true. I know you’re probably tired of hearing this, but…usually, when you stop trying…that’s when it happens.”

Henry smiled at her, all too familiar with that piece of advice. He hoped there was some truth to it, and only time would tell.

“Yeah,” he said absently, finally grabbing his beer and taking a healthy swig. He cleared his throat and gave her a challenging look. “Wanna have a go at pool?”

Molly grinned at him playfully. “Yeah. I’ll kick your ass.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Henry shot back as he and Molly got out of their seats and walked arm in arm over to one of the pool tables.

And for the first time in eight whole months, Henry didn’t find his thoughts drifting toward babies even once the entire night.


	3. Name

The hushed, murmured voices are what eventually brings him back, and as his senses begin to wake up, he feels multiple sets of hands on his body. His eyes opened warily, once again fighting to adjust to the room’s brightness, and now also having to decipher the blur of figures surrounding him.

To his right were the two medics, one of them using a hand to support the back of his head and neck. The warden was kneeling beside him to his left and he could see her three guards standing behind her in quiet observation. Her expression was tense with a genuine concern that made him uneasy; he found he liked her better with a scowl.

Then, right beside her was another face, one almost too close for him to really focus on. He blinked at it, strained his eyes too look deeper into the mask of this mysterious being, and he could nearly make it out when he was caught off guard by a dirty flavor settling on his tongue.

His lips parted for breath and the taste only intensified, a metallic tang that lingered with an acrid heaviness. When a thick copper scent shot up into his nasal cavity, he realized he was bleeding. He was eating and breathing his own blood.

His eyes re-focused on the unknown person hovering over his face, recognition finally dawning on him when—

“Zalewski, give him some room,” the warden ordered quietly.

Zalewski—Dennis, _his_ Dennis—looked down at him hesitantly before following the warden’s command. He didn’t stray far, though, only scooting back a bit to give him a little breathing room.

His eyes never left Dennis’ face, the tears forming in them immediately. It was him…he was here…they were here together. How could this be?

The warden then asked one of the medics for a towel and one was immediately offered to her. She gently dabbed the fabric around his nose and lips to soak up some of the blood and shot a look to the medic cushioning his head.

“Do you think it’s broken?” she asked.

The medic studied his face for a new seconds before nodding skeptically. “At the most, it may be a fracture. We’ll x-ray it to make sure, but it looks fine. Just ate a little concrete.”

“Let’s at least get him off the ground,” she replies as she steps back, letting the guards surround her while the medics take over.

Dennis steps back as well, more of an obstacle than a help to the rest of them, and carefully, slowly, he’s lifted onto his feet. He stumbles a bit once he’s up, but the two medics quickly guide him back to the examination table and push him to lie down flat.

His head rolls over to where Dennis is still standing, watching him with curious wonder. The guard who was with him (Boyd, was it? Was that what they said his name was?) stood silently at the door, a sense of restless boredom beginning to settle in his face.

“Man, come on,” Boyd says. “We got rounds to do.”

Dennis responds with the barest hint of acknowledgment, his gaze still fixed on the poor man he found being held captive in the basement of Shawshank Prison. Hell, he was just barely a man…Dennis thought he resembled a scared child more than anything else. His heart went out to him in a deep way he couldn’t explain, the compassion he felt for this person he didn’t even know overwhelming to him.

What it must have been like for him down there, all alone in the black darkness for God knows how long, surrounded in deafening silence. The mere thought of such isolation made Dennis’ brain pulse with impending madness.

And perhaps another part of it was guilt. Yeah, he’d found the guy, but some part of him wonders if there was any way he could’ve found him sooner. How could _no one_ have known about him?  How much freedom and sanity had this guy lost because of their ignorance? What the fuck was wrong with this place?

The man—the _kid_ —meets his eyes and Dennis tries to smile, tries to give the guy some assurance that he was safe now and he’d be taken care of. The kid didn’t smile back, only watched him with thoughtful, almost longing eyes.

“It’s alright, Zalewski,” the warden suddenly says, breaking Dennis’ attention away from the mysterious stranger. “We’ve got it from here. I’ll certainly want to speak with you and Officer Boyd later on the matter, but for right now, please return to your original posts.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Boyd says, all too eager to get on with his day. The excitement was over now, anyway. Though showing hesitance at first, Dennis eventually nods in compliance and turns to leave when he hears a strangled sob suddenly ring throughout the room. Startled, he whips around to meet the kid’s wild, fearful eyes. Initially, he’s frightened by this sudden outburst amid all the silence, but his newfound empathy seems to take over again, and he can’t make himself move.

The kid lifts a hand shakily, as if trying to wave him over, his mouth opening and closing sporadically with a scratchy, painful sound emitting from his throat. The warden and the medics back up from him as Dennis steps closer, the man’s lips trembling as he struggled to speak.

Finally, his garbled voice croaks out a single word in a quiet, desperate plea: “Stay…”

Everyone in the room exchanges stunned glances before turning their attention to Dennis, who shrinks within himself a bit. Dennis looks at the warden meekly, so many questions running over his face.

“What…what do I…” is all he can manage.

The warden walks over to Dennis and pulls him out of the room to speak privately, his eyes staying fixed on the kid, whose stare is cold enough to give him a shiver.

“Alright, here’s the bottom line,” she says, giving Dennis a hard look. “We have  _nothing_  on this kid. We need to know who he is, how he got to be where he was, and he’s not talking. Not to us, anyway. But you… You got him out of there, and he obviously recognizes that. For him, you’re probably some semblance of safety and he’s more likely to form a comfortability with you. And maybe…we can get some information then.”

Dennis looks back and forth between her and the kid. “But…what do I even say to him? And what if he doesn’t tell me anything?”

The warden shakes her head calmly. “Then he doesn’t tell you anything. I’m just asking you to try, because we need  _something_. And you know…he could probably use a little kindness. You have a great deal of compassion, I can see it. That’s what he needs the most right now.”

With a compliant nod, Dennis sighs as he heads back into the room. He approaches the examination table cautiously, the man’s eyes still fixed on him with urgency. The warden stands squarely in the doorway, making sure her sights are fully on the stranger, and everyone else in the room remains still as they quietly watch.

The knot in Dennis’ stomach loosens as he notices a serene calmness wash over the kid’s face. He glances back at the warden, who gives him an encouraging nod, and he looks back down at the kid, kneeling a bit so he can at least be on eye-level with him.

The first thing he notices is the kid’s two different colored eyes, one brown and the other a shocking blue green. There was a clinical term for that, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was. It was rare, he knew…much like the rest of this situation.

He blinks a couple of times, realizing he’s letting it distract him, and focuses on the rest of the kid’s face.

“Hi,” he says quietly, careful not to make any quick movements. “Um…I’m Officer Zalewski. What’s your name?”

Dennis barely has the words out when the kid shoots his arm forward and latches a tight hand onto his wrist, nearly pulling him onto the table with him. The warden’s three guards are immediately on him, but Dennis waves them off.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I got it,” he says to them, and reluctantly, they back away.

 _You have a great deal of compassion, I can see it…_ Dennis rests a hand on top of the one the kid still has wrapped around his wrist and tries again.

“You’re alright, man. You’re safe now,” Dennis says. “Look, I don’t really know what you’ve been through. I don’t think I want to…I’m sure it was hell being down there in the dark like that…and I sure am sorry. But everybody in this room would really like to help you. I know you probably don’t feel like talking much, but…can you at least tell us your name?”

The kid’s eyes immediately well up with tears and he looks away from Dennis, staring up into the ceiling. The man he had loved and shared ten whole years of his life with looked straight into his face, nearly peering into his soul, and had not even the slightest inkling of who he was. His husband, his soulmate, the love of his life…none of that meant anything here. _They_ didn’t mean anything here.  

He releases his hold on Dennis’ wrist and lets his arm hang over the edge of the examination table. This is surprising to Dennis, until he sees the tears running down the kid’s face; then, it is alarming.

“Hey,” he says, gently touching the kid’s arm. “Are you alright? D-does something hurt?” He looks up at the medics with worry, who come to surround the kid like a hungry pair of sharks. The kid closes his eyes, refusing to see anyone else as his distress leaves hot, wet trails down his cheeks.

From the doorway, the warden lets out a sigh. “I think that’s enough for now,” she says, coming to stand over the kid with an unmistakable hint of sadness. “This guy’s had a hell of a day. Check him over a little more, get some food in him. Then maybe later, we’ll see if he feels like talking. Officers?”

One of the guards exits first to lead the warden out and the other two follow behind her. Dennis offers one final look at the kid, the tears still rolling silently from his eyes as his gaze remains fixed on the lights above him. Then, just as Dennis is about to turn away, he hears the kid utter something else, something that makes his throat instantly go bone dry.

“Dennis…”  

~*~*~*~

Finally, after hours of being prodded and questioned and gawked at, he is at last by himself. Dusk had begun to fall when the medics informed him that he would be staying in the examination room for the night, partly for observation, but mostly because they didn’t exactly have a place for him yet.

Like it really mattered to him where he slept, anyway. After this morning, nothing really mattered at all.

Once he was sure he was alone, he moved from the examination table in favor of a corner on the far side of the room. He was tired of seeing so many people loitering outside, practically breaking their necks just to get a glimpse of him.

Since he was no longer shrouded in the lonely darkness, he had to create something resembling it, and at least in this corner, he wasn’t as easily seen. The occasional prisoner or guard would saunter by and give him the once over as they passed, but he did his best to ignore the intrusion.

He would give anything to be hidden again. Being removed from the abyss he was forced to call home for so many years would ordinarily feel like a blessing, but knowing what he does now, he was certain he’d much rather return to his personal prison.

And he sure as hell would rather Dennis be gone without a trace than occupy the same space with a Dennis who had no memory of him or their life together. It was selfish, perhaps, but undeniably how he felt. What was he going to do? How could he possibly endure a life without the man he’d built so much with? It was impossible.

His vision catches something pass by the big window and he once again averts his eyes away from the latest looky-loo. The door to the examination room then opens with a steady creak and he glances up, his heart thudding in his chest when he sees Dennis walk in, closing the door behind him.

Their eyes meet in an instant, Dennis looking at him with much more curiosity and apprehension than he had before. Slowly, Dennis makes his way to him, coming to sit Indian-style on the floor in front of him, his gaze intense.

“Hey,” Dennis says. “How are you feeling? Better?”

Like Dennis expects, he doesn’t get a response, but he’s hoping that at some point he can drag out the answers to at least a few of his many questions. The biggest question he had, of course, being…how the _hell_ did this guy know his name?

He had introduced himself to him, sure, but he never disclosed his first name. He must’ve overheard it from someone else, that was the most obvious explanation.

But Dennis had a weird feeling. There was something about this guy that felt unnerving…but also incredibly intriguing.

“Um…I was just wondering if, uh…you know, you needed anything. Cup of coffee…a smoke…maybe I could try to score a nudey mag for ya,” Dennis smirked, quickly dismayed that his attempt at humor has garnered no response. The kid only looked down at the ground.

Dennis sighed. “This has got to be a lot to process, you know. Probably pretty scary, and…hey, no one’s blaming you if you don’t feel like talking about it. I wouldn’t either. But…you said my name earlier.”

At this, the kid snaps to attention, his wide eyes gluing themselves to Dennis’. With a calculating gaze, Dennis chooses his next few words carefully.

“I’m just gonna assume you overheard it from someone, but… The point is, you know my name. And I’d like to know yours.” They watch each other in silence, an amused smile starting to pull on the corner of Dennis’ lips. “You know, everyone here’s been calling you Nic Cage… Cuz, ya know, we found you in a…a cage.”

The kid seems to stew over this bit of info for a second, his eyes dancing about animatedly as he thinks, but still, he says nothing about it.

“It’s a dumb joke,” Dennis admits, his cheeks going red. “Anyway… I want you to know, you got a friend here. And if you need anything, even just someone to talk to…you can talk to me. Okay?”

The two once again share a silent look before Dennis pushes himself back up onto his feet. He turns and walks to the door, nearly grabbing onto the handle when he hears it.

“Henry…”

Immediately, Dennis stops and turns back around to find the kid looking up at him expectantly, his lips parting just as they had when he spoke before.

“What?” Dennis asked gently.

“My name,” the kid says in that dry, weakened voice. “It’s Henry.”


	4. Lines

Something had been in the air in Castle Rock last night. When Dennis came in at midnight to begin his 12 hour shift, he hadn’t been anticipating much action at all.

It wasn’t the right time of year; most of the town’s loitering, petty crime sprees, and drunk driving escapades didn’t start until summer time when the heat tended to make people’s crazy come out. It was the middle of February and most people were still in too much of a hibernation state to cause much trouble.

That being said, it  _was_  the middle of February, and it wasn’t really much of a stretch to say last night’s offenders were probably just bored and needed some kind of escape from the winter blues.

Dennis had begun to feel the restless itch himself. He just didn’t believe engaging in bar fights, vandalizing city property, or attempting to rob convenience stores were healthy outlets for cabin fever.

Dennis and his partner, Officer Carl Brockman, stumbled into the station a little after 11, coming back from checking out a report of a suspicious person skulking around the family park. By the time they got there, this mystery person was nowhere to be seen, but they hung around for a while in case they returned.

After half an hour, Carl got bored and called it. “Like they’re gonna come back with the cops sitting here,” he grumbled as he pulled out of the parking space they occupied. Dennis offered a grunt of agreement, but said nothing more as they rode back to the station.

He had only an hour to go, thank God.

As soon as he walked through the front door, the middle-aged deputy who manned the front desk flagged him down.

“Zalewski, you have a visitor,” he barked, hitching a thumb toward Dennis’ desk in the back.

He feels the lethargy beginning to seep in even deeper as he walks toward his desk, but he immediately perks up when his eyes fall on his husband, who is sitting in a cushioned chair along the wall with two brown paper sacks in his lap.

“Hey!” he said brightly, and Henry looked up with a smile.

“Hi,” Henry replied, grabbing the bags and standing to greet him. Dennis placed a quick kiss on Henry’s cheek.

“What are you doing here? Everything okay?” Dennis asked.

“Yeah! Just thought I’d treat my man to some lunch,” Henry said, thrusting one of the sacks toward him.

“Ooh, what do we got?” Dennis peeked inside the sack.

“Reuben’s,” Henry replied.

Reuben’s was Castle Rock’s famous (and only) delicatessen that Dennis and Henry frequented. Not only were the sandwiches to die for, but the name always made Dennis laugh for some stupid reason.

“You never have to ask what they serve,” Dennis would say every time they went. “Welcome to Reuben’s….we have Reubens.” And every time, Henry would respond with a roll of his eyes.

“Sweet,” Dennis said. “Hey…you know why they call it Reu—“

“I  _know_  why they call it Reuben’s…” Henry interrupted his husband’s tiresome joke. Dennis still snickered at himself, regardless.

Dennis walked over to his desk and sat down, his hand already rifling through the bag of food, when he noticed Henry hesitating by the wall of chairs.

“Well, come sit down,” Dennis said.

“I was thinking we could go to the conference room,” Henry walked up to the desk, an eyebrow lifting suggestively. “Maybe have a little privacy?”

Dennis then hopped out of his chair, his face now lit up like an excited kid on Christmas morning. He motions for Henry to follow him and they made their way toward the back of the station, down a hallway lined with half a dozen various offices.

They walked into the last room on the left side of the hall, stopping just short of the double doors that lead to the chamber of jail cells, and Dennis practically slammed the door once they were inside.

He grabbed Henry by the waist with both hands and pulled him close, an erection already beginning to bud below his belt.

“You finally gonna let me fuck you while I’m on duty?” he teased.

Henry just smiled and shook his head. “Easy there, officer. Let’s not get too excited.”

“Can we at least make out a little bit in one of the cop cars?” Dennis asked.

“We’ll see. Now, sit down and eat your Rueben from Reuben’s.”

With a defeated sigh, Dennis sat down at the big conference table and dumped out the contents of the brown sack, a Reuben, as promised, and a big dill pickle. Henry took a seat next to him and pulled a croissant filled with chicken salad out of his own paper sack and ate a couple of bites.

Dennis hadn’t realized how hungry he was. Before he knew it, half of the Rueben was already devoured and it had barely been a minute since they started eating.

“Well, thanks for lunch, babe,” he said with a full mouth, making Henry smirk with amusement.

“Mmhm,” Henry replied, picking his sandwich apart with his hands and eating it piece by piece.

“So, were you bored at work at something?” Dennis asked conversationally.

“I mean, yeah, always,” Henry shrugged. “But you know…I missed you and stuff.”

“Aww…that’s corny,” Dennis said.

“Yes, I’m sickened,” Henry agreed.

It had been about five months since the two of them decided to take a break from trying to get pregnant. And though Dennis had initially been worried about what  _exactly_  that would mean for them, he wasn’t anymore, as he now felt more connected to Henry than he had the past year.

Once they eliminated all the stress they were putting on themselves, they were finally able to focus on each other and put the spark of fun back into their relationship. Not to mention, the sex was spontaneous and passionate again; it no longer felt like an obligation.

The only thing that concerned Dennis now was the fact that Henry hadn’t hinted at being ready to start trying again. He certainly wasn’t in any hurry to start pressuring themselves again, but he still very much wanted to start a family, and he was beginning to worry that maybe Henry had changed his mind about it.

He wanted to bring it up with him, knowing the question needed to be asked, but he was almost afraid of the answer.

Dennis finished up his Reuben and began to dig into the pickle, while Henry put his own half-eaten sandwich back into its wrapping, and stuffed a hand into the pocket of his dress coat before he could lose his nerve.

“I got something else for you,” Henry said seriously.

Dennis looked up curiously. “A cookie?”

“No. Not a cookie,” Henry laughed nervously, bringing something out of his coat pocket and sliding it over to Dennis.

Dennis gives Henry an odd look before his eyes settle on the thing Henry took out of his pocket. On the table in front of him is a pregnancy test, but in the little result window, he doesn’t see a pink line; he sees two.

The pickle fell out of Dennis’ hand and hit the table with a thunk and he made a mad grab for the stick, his eyes wide and glossy with disbelief.

“What…” he breathed, holding the test right up to his face, as if unsure he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing. His gaze snapped over to Henry. “Are you…are you  _sure_??”

Henry reached back into his coat pocket and set two more tests onto the table, a pair of pink lines on each of them.

“I’m pretty sure,” Henry’s lip trembled.

Dennis shot out of his seat, his hands flying to either side of his head. “Oh, my God. Oh, my  _GOD_!”

He grabbed both of Henry’s hands and pulled him out of his chair, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him into a tight embrace. He looked deeply into Henry’s eyes.

“Say it,” Dennis whispered. “Say the words…”

Henry’s face twisted as tears welled up in his eyes and fell down his cheeks in twin streams. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m pregnant.”

Dennis’ head slowly shook in wonderment, a delirious laugh escaping him.

“Yes!” he breathed, planting a hard kiss on Henry’s lips and hugging him tightly.

Henry rested his head into the crook of Dennis’ neck, his tears soaking into the collar of his uniform shirt. “I’m pregnant…” he said again.

Dennis could feel Henry’s body shaking in his arms and held him tighter. “I told you, didn’t I? I told you it would happen! Oh, God, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Henry wept into his shoulder, and the two of them stood just like that, wrapped in each other’s arms until Dennis’ shift ended.

~*~*~*~

A week later, Dennis held Henry’s hand in the doctor’s office while a nurse ran an ultrasound probe through the cool gel on Henry’s stomach. The screen was alive in an instant, and after a few quiet seconds, the nurse pointed to a little blinking dot.

“See that?” she said, pushing the probe deeper into his flesh. “That’s your baby’s heart.”

Henry was immediately in tears and Dennis nearly was as both of their gazes remained fixed on the screen. They couldn’t believe it; after so many discouraging months, at long last, here they were looking at the beautiful little bean that was their growing child. The joy in their hearts almost made it hard to breathe.

“Let’s give it a listen,” the nurse said, turning a little knob on the ultrasound machine until a delicate drumming sound filled the room.

“Oh, my God…” Henry breathed and closed his eyes, the heartbeat playing to him like an exquisite melody.

The nurse studied the screen carefully before turning to both of them with a smile. “Baby’s heart rate is really good! We’re looking to be at about 8 weeks…you’ve got a little raspberry in there!”

“Raspberry…” Dennis chuckled under his breath. “When can we find out what it is?”

“We usually can’t decipher the sex until around 12 weeks…” the nurse explained. “And even then, sometimes we have to wait a bit longer if the baby’s not laying in a position where we can see it. But, I guess we’ll see in a month or so!”

Henry looked up at Dennis. “I don’t think I want to know.”

Dennis’ brows shot up in question. “You don’t?”

“No,” Henry shook his head. “Don’t you think it would be fun to keep it a surprise?”

“Yeah,” Dennis shrugs with a grin. “I mean, if that’s what you want…”

The nurse takes a few more measurements before removing the probe from Henry’s stomach and replacing it with a paper towel, wiping away most of the gel. She hands him a fresh one to finish cleaning up any she may have missed and gathered up Henry’s medical file.

“Alright, daddies!” she said brightly. “I’m gonna let the doctor know you’re ready for him, and I’ll see if I can get a few photos of baby printed out for you while you wait, okay? Just sit tight.”

“Thank you!” Henry called after her as she hustled out the door.

Now that they were alone, Dennis let his emotions pour over. He covered his eyes with both hands and allowed himself to cry into them for a few seconds before quickly wiping the tears away and looking into the concerned eyes of his husband.

“Are you okay?” Henry asked.

“Yeah!” Dennis nodded, his face all aglow. “I’m just…I’m so fucking happy, Henry.”

“Me too…” Henry said, his eyes welling up again as his hand settled on his still exposed stomach.

Dennis placed a hand over Henry’s, his thumb drawing invisible circles onto the bare skin. “A raspberry, huh? That’s kinda cute, actually.”

“We’re _not_ naming our kid Raspberry…” Henry protested.

“I don’t mean for a _name_ name! But like a nickname, ya know? And if we’re not gonna find out the sex… It’s better than referring to them as ‘it’,” Dennis said.

"Okay, but it's not gonna be this size forever," Henry said. "What about when I'm as big as a planet?"

Dennis just shrugged. "Still a Raspberry."

“You’re ridiculous…” Henry laughed.

“But that’s why you love me, right?” Dennis purred, leaning down toward Henry’s lips.

“Oh, but I don’t,” Henry teased. “This was just a fling, I thought that was understood.”

Dennis pulled a face and nodded over at the image of the baby that was still frozen on the ultrasound screen. “Ah. Well, if _that’s_ the case…I’d say we fucked up.”

Both of them started laughing at the ridiculousness of the conversation and didn’t stop until Dennis planted a chaste kiss on Henry’s lips, their eyes settling lovingly on each other’s faces.

“Is this really happening?” Henry asked with a scared smile.

“Yeah… I think so,” Dennis quietly smiled back. “Are you scared?” 

“Terrified,” Henry replied. “But...I want this baby more than anything in the world. I’ve wanted to start a family with you since the day we met.” 

Dennis’ eyes go misty as he kissed Henry again. 

”I love you...” he said stroking his thumb over Henry’s belly again. “And I love our little Raspberry.”


	5. Out

The medical examiner zipped the body bag that lay atop the gurney and stealthily pushed it through the door way of the cell, letting a barrage of city police officers and a few prison guards escort him down the hallway.

The dead man inside the bag had been found face down in his pillow this morning, no sign of foul play or even a struggle, which was unusual in a place like this. This guy couldn’t have been more than 40, and fatalities of the younger ones here were usually the result of premeditated attacks among inmates.

Thankfully, these acts had become far and few between in recent years and most prisoners who kicked the bucket were the ones who managed to reach old age.

It was presumed this man died of natural causes, such as a heart attack or a stroke during sleep. Or, he could have simply smothered. But there was a nagging in Dennis’ brain, a voice that kept repeating how skeptical it was of this whole thing…as if the circumstances surrounding the man’s demise could be something else entirely.

They paired the kid with the man last night, packing the two of them together in a tight, musty cell that was barely big enough for one person, let alone two. The truth of the matter was Shawshank was nearing capacity, so much so that solitary confinement was looking to no longer be an option.

Most had roommates, but there were the lucky few who still got a cell to themselves. As was the case with the dead man they found this morning.

It had been three days and the warden was getting antsy over the fact that they had no place to stick the still unidentified man they found in the basement. He had no name, no processing paperwork, and no criminal record of any kind. He was basically a ghost, or “a P.R. disaster”, as the warden kept saying.

The nearest solution was to bunk him with Big Bruce, which had virtually zero chance of working out. Bruce was aggressive and oppositional to authority, determined to establish himself as some kind of alpha male against every potential opponent.

Paired with the kid’s severe meekness and quiet disposition, this union would surely result in nothing less than the kid having his ass handed to him in one way or another on the daily. And the warden was aware of such a possibility, but she was growing desperate. So, into a cell with Bruce he went.

And now, after not even a full twenty-four hours together, Bruce was being wheeled out of the cell in a bag. A guard stood off to the side, holding the kid by the arm and watching solemnly as the authorities carried him away.

Dennis watched from the floor below, his fixation always coming back to settle on the kid, who seemed completely unfazed by this turn of events. Every so often, the kid would gaze down at him with that lost, pained look in his eyes, and every time, it left an odd, churning feeling in the pit of Dennis’ stomach.   

Everything about him was like an intricate jigsaw puzzle to Dennis, too many pieces to sort through and no idea where to begin linking them together. He’d disclosed so little, but it all was of significance. For one thing, now he had a name.  _Henry._  But Dennis was the only one with that knowledge.

The warden needed to be privy to this, he knew. He was obligated to tell her. But…for some strange reason, Dennis felt that sharing such information would be a violation of the twisted form of trust he’d built with him. Henry would talk to him, and only him. There had to be a reason for that, right?

Besides, Dennis got a weird, euphoric rush from knowing something that no one else did, especially when it concerned the subject of Shawshank’s latest scandal.

Once the authorities make their way past, the guard leads Henry back into the cell and pulls the door closed with a loud clang. Dennis continues to stand there for a minute and gawk up at the cell, wondering how much trauma a man could possibly withstand in a mere three days.

The next thing he knew, he was standing in front of the cell door, squatting down to peek through the little window that was cut out of the steel.

He’s met by Henry’s eyes immediately, brightly peering at him where he sits slumped in the right corner closest to the door.

“Hey,” Dennis says. Henry responds by shifting a bit closer to the little window, squinting when the light from the hallway shines onto his face.

“You’ve had a hell of a week, huh?” he says. “Bright side is you can actually  _move_  in there now.”

He offers a humored grin, making Henry’s head bob with the barest hint of acknowledgment. Dennis scratches at the back of his neck as he trudges on.

“Well, uh… I just wanted to see how you were doing, ya know. Wondering if you need anything.”

Henry shakes his head.

“Okay,” Dennis nods. “Still…sorry you had to see the guy like that.”

The light catches Henry’s eyes again, the warmth from the sun’s rays soaking into his skin. It felt good, comforting in a way. He hadn’t see or felt anything even remotely close to the outside in so long, and he was just now realizing how much he missed it. What it must feel like to breathe fresh air instead of the damp musk of the hole; he couldn’t imagine it.

“Alright, well… I should probably go back to pretending to work. So, if you change your mind…flag me down or something.”

As Dennis stands back up, Henry’s hand shoots out of the little window.

“Wait,” he says, almost too quietly for Dennis to hear. Slowly, Dennis lowers himself back down into a squat.

“Yeah?”

Henry puts his face so close to the window that he and Dennis’ noses are nearly touching. He points toward the sunlight shining in from the big window above them.

“There…”

~*~*~*~

With Dennis following closely behind, Henry slowly hobbles along the chain link fence that surrounds the prison yard.

The area was for the most part deserted, aside from a few men loitering around the picnic tables and the two or three armed guards in their shadows. It was breakfast time and most of them wouldn’t be out for another fifteen minutes or so, and Dennis figured now was the ideal time for such a venture.

Henry was having difficulty adjusting to so much attention, tending to shut down in front of too many eyes. He was accustomed to isolation, and if that was what made him comfortable, Dennis saw no harm in keeping him separated from the rest of the goons for at least a little while longer.

They’d only been out for five minutes or so, but already, Dennis could feel the sweat soaking through the underarms of his shirt. They were a couple of weeks into July, right in the heart of summer, and there seemed to be no relief from the heat.

Even the cloudiest of nights were thick with a humidity that lied over your body like a wool blanket. It was almost hard to breathe, despite how early in the day it still was.

Wiping the sweat bubbling up on his top lip, Dennis peeks up at Henry, his slender hands shielding his eyes from the blazing sunlight as he sluggishly trudges forward.

“It’s kinda bright out this morning, ain’t it?” Dennis chuckles, feeling the need to make idle conversation.

As expected, Henry doesn’t respond at first, but after a couple beats of silence, he turns to glance back at Dennis for merely a second.

“It’s hot,” he says quietly.

“Yeah, well… That’s what happens in summer,” Dennis replies, cringing at the simple stupidity of the comment. _That’s what happens in summer? Way to talk to him like he’s a fucking toddler…_

Henry stops and leans against the fence, his stooped shoulders shifting uncomfortably beneath his shirt as he swipes at the gathering moisture on his forehead.

Dennis stops as well, keeping a good foot or two behind him. “You ready to go in?” he asks.

With a nod of his head, Henry starts walking again, nearly finishing one full lap around the yard. Up ahead, the side door that leads to the cafeteria swings open and a small group of prisoners makes their way outside.

Their accompanying guards follow closely behind, one of them looking up to take notice of Henry immediately. As if on instinct, Henry shrinks inside himself in an instant, but the guard’s attention has already been peaked and he’s sauntering over to them. At second glance, Henry realizes he knows him, or at least he thinks he does. He kind of looks like—

“Zalewski! What the fuck, man?”

Dennis snaps to attention and he sees Boyd huffing his way toward them. He moves closer, coming to stand beside Henry.

“I thought you were gonna take over rounds this morning,” Boyd sniffs, crossing his arms.

“Oh, right… Sorry, man,” Dennis says. “They found the dead guy this morning, and my mind just kinda…” He whistles, waving his hand over his head.

“Mmhmm… Well, I guess you can make it up to me tonight then, huh?”

Dennis nods. “Guess so, yeah.”

Boyd’s curious gaze falls on Henry, who slightly backs himself up against the fence and stares down at the ground. Boyd’s lips curl up in a nasty smirk.

“Well, well! Looks like you _can_ take Nic out of the Cage,” he clucks his tongue. “How’s it hanging out here in the real world, Mr. Big-Shot?”

He slinks forward, throwing his arm out to nudge him, but Henry shies away from it, almost fearful of the potential touch. Most would view this reaction as a symptom of anxiety or distrust in others, which was more than understandable in Henry’s case. But Boyd, with obvious amusement, saw Henry’s vulnerability as weakness.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Your daddy touch you when you was a kid or something?” he asks with a hateful grin, pushing himself toward Henry again.

Without even thinking about it, Dennis wedges himself between them. “C’mon, man…”

“What?” Boyd shrugs. “Guy’s left alone in a cellar for a while and now he’s the fucking king of Shawshank? Like he’s any more special than the rest of ‘em.”

“No, man, just…” Dennis lightly pushes Boyd away from Henry, leaning into him closely so only they can hear. “This is the first time he’s been outside and he’s kinda jumpy, ya know. Don’t take it personal, just think about what he’s been through, alright? You wouldn’t be ‘all there’ either.”

Dennis’ words feel filthy to him as they’re spoken. Ultimately, he’s trying to diffuse, appeal to Boyd’s way of thinking as opposed to his own. If he were Henry, he’d have backed away too; Boyd’s default was intimidation, which he supposed was the only thing that worked with a few of these prisoners.

But not Henry. Anyone but him.

He just needed Boyd to walk away and leave them alone, and he’d say pretty much anything to make that happen. It had been a weird enough morning already without a fight breaking out…a fight instigated by a guard, no less.

Boyd turns his head and shoots a wad of spit out from between his teeth. Dennis tries to tell himself that is wasn’t deliberately aimed in Henry’s direction, but he knows Boyd better than that.

“Yeah, but… You gonna babysit him forever?” Boyd scoffs.

“I’m not babysitting,” Dennis snaps.

“Right…” Boyd smirks, shooting Henry a sneer before turning around and walking back toward his group. “Well, when you’re ready to stop coddling Nosfuratu over there and start doing your job again, you know where to fucking find me.”

Dennis exhales an irritated breath as he looks back at Henry, who has fully backed himself up against the fence, the serenity he first possessed when coming out here now completely vanished.

“Hey, I’m sorry about that, man. That guy…well, he’s kind of a prick,” Dennis says. “Like you couldn’t tell that.”

Henry’s eyes frantically dart back and forth, like a million thoughts are swirling around at once, tearing through his brain like a rampant storm. He looks like he’d willingly crawl out of his own skin to hide in a hole somewhere if given the chance.

“You’re alright,” Dennis says gently, stepping forward. “Let’s keep going a little bit, huh?”

“In…” Henry suddenly croaks out, his fingers clenching around the chain link.

“What?” Dennis asks.

“IN!” Henry shouts with a cracking voice.

Dennis startles, but immediately jumps into action. “Oh! Okay, uh… Okay, yeah, we can go inside,” he stammers, coming right up next to Henry, who makes no attempt to move. “But um…I can’t…you gotta let go of—“

With that, Henry hurls himself off of the chain link and whips around, hastily striding over to the far side of the yard, away from the other prisoners and, consequently, the door. Dennis rushes after him, momentarily glancing behind him to see that they’ve caught the attention of nearly everyone else.

Boyd, in particular, watches with barely veiled enjoyment.

Once he catches up, he gently grabs hold of Henry’s arm and turns him around in the right direction. And as they make their way across the yard, Dennis can’t help but notice that Henry doesn’t shy away or even flinch at his touch, but rather sinks into it, like he can’t possibly get close enough.

~*~*~*~

An hour later, Henry is once again crouched into his little corner of the cell when he hears a pair of heavy boots approaching. He looks up just in time to see Dennis squatting down in front of the little cell window, their eyes meeting in an instant.

“Hey,” Dennis says quietly. “You missed breakfast, but I was able to sneak some stuff for you.”

He pulls a couple of bananas and a small orange out of the pockets of his slacks and pushes them through the little window. Henry takes them, but tosses them to the side, a gesture Dennis doesn’t miss.

“You gotta eat something, man. I know it’s not much…”

Dennis then wonders what Henry ate while he was locked away in the basement. It was no mystery now that Warden Lacy was the one who put him down there. Dennis figured if he was holding some poor bastard prisoner in an old water tank somewhere, he’d eventually off himself too. It’d certainly be what he deserved.

Whatever Lacy fed him obviously wasn’t much; he was little more than skin and bone. But suppose somedays, he had to fend for himself, if Lacy got sick or had to leave town for any reason. What was he to do then?

Well… A musty, filthy place like the basement was sure to be teeming with rats and God knows what other kind of vermin. Dennis nearly gagged at the thought.  

It horrified him to wonder what else Lacy subjected Henry to, though it wasn’t hard to guess. He hoped to God he was wrong, but all of the clues were there, and Henry’s withdrawn, wounded demeanor seemed to corroborate those suspicions.

Still, he wanted to believe the contrary, so until the other could be proven, he would.

“Just…try to eat, okay?” Dennis said, Henry’s eyes shining back at him like wide saucers. He sighed, chewing on his bottom lip as he conjured something. “I’ll make you a deal. You eat at least one of those, orange or banana, I don’t care…and tomorrow morning I’ll try to sneak you outside extra early for another walk. Have the place to yourself? You could be…King of the yard!”

Henry seems to mull this over in his mind for a bit before ultimately giving a little shrug and averting his eyes elsewhere. Dennis could feel a crick forming in the back of his neck and he rubbed at it hard, the pain dulling only slightly.

“Man, don’t worry about Boyd, okay? He talks a big game, but that’s it. He’s all bark, especially when it comes to shit he doesn’t understand,” he says. “At any rate…I’m sorry you had to deal with him today. He got in your space, he had no right.”

Henry’s eyes snap up to meet Dennis’. “It’s not your fault.”

The statement takes Dennis aback, and he isn’t sure how to respond. He drums his fingers together, wondering why he suddenly feels like it _is_ his fault, as if he’s responsible for reeling Boyd in when things get too intense. He fended Boyd off earlier, but just barely.

He knew Boyd had the tendency to “poke a sleeping bear”, and his disdain for Henry was not hidden very well to begin with. Dennis couldn’t be Henry’s personal bodyguard to protect him 24/7. So, if Boyd came back for more, what would happen then?

The image of Henry’s recently deceased roommate being wheeled out of the cell flashed in his mind suddenly, and Dennis quickly fought off the wave of nausea that came with it.

He noticed Henry was still staring at him, his eyes nearly glowing in the late morning light. Dennis looked at him earnestly, an uneasy smile parting his lips.

“Still…he’s kinda my partner and I just…feel responsible for him sometimes. Maybe because he’s not really all that responsible himself, I don’t know,” Dennis shrugged. “Tell you what. Next time he tries anything, you and I will just team up and kick his ass, how about that?”

A blush fills Henry’s cheeks as he gives Dennis a tiny grin, and Dennis feels an odd rush of pride at making Henry actually smile.

“Alright, we got a plan! But…I need to get back to work now, though…before he finds me,” he gives Henry a coy wink. “We don’t wanna have to implement the plan just yet.”

He balls up a fist and sticks it through the little window toward Henry, who eyes it curiously. Dennis feels embarrassment begin to burn in his cheeks.

“Uh, it’s uh…it’s a fist bump,” he stutters. “See, you make a fist and then you touch it to my fist.”

Henry looks at his own hand skeptically for a second before clenching his fingers into a tight fist and touching his knuckles to Dennis’.

“Yeah! There you go,” Dennis says. “You hang in there. And I’ll see you later, okay?”

Then, as if in slow motion, Henry’s long fingers uncurl and reach out to envelope Dennis’ entire fist. Dennis watches what’s taking place, but the action doesn’t quite register. His head snaps up to look at Henry, immediately lost in the other man’s peculiar longing gaze.

And then, ever so gently, Henry gives Dennis’ hand a little squeeze.

“Bye, Dennis.”


	6. Bump

“Dennis! Dennis, get up here!”

The dishes in Dennis’ hands fell into the kitchen sink with a loud crash as he heard Henry yell for him. Panicked, he hit the staircase at a dead-run, climbing the steps in mere seconds, and screeching to a hard stop once he made it to the top.

“Where are you??” he called, frenzied.

“Bedroom!” Henry called back.

Dennis practically sprinted down the hallway, bursting through the doorway of their bedroom to find Henry standing in front of the full-length mirror, his t-shirt pulled up to his ribs.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Dennis panted, grabbing onto the door frame to steady himself.

Henry turned to his husband with a giddy smile. “Come here, come look at this!”

He then swiveled to his side, absorbing his profile in the mirror as Dennis exhaled, relieved.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” Henry said, his eyes still fixed on his reflection with a loving smile.

Dennis watched as Henry skated a palm over the new solid curve of his belly. It was small, but definitely noticeable, especially considering how thin Henry was to begin with.

“Oh, wow…” Dennis breathed as he came up behind Henry. “I don’t remember that being there yesterday.”

“Yeah,” Henry said. “I guess Raspberry had a growth spurt overnight.”

Dennis wrapped his arms around Henry’s torso, his hands coming to cradle the tiny bump. He rested his chin on Henry’s shoulder, gently swaying them back and forth as they both stared at each other in the mirror.

“That’s crazy,” Dennis said quietly. “There’s actually a baby in there.”

Henry snorted a laugh. “You had doubts about that? You  _saw_  the baby a few weeks ago.”

“I know, it’s just… Now we can see it on the outside.”

“It’s about time, too. I’m fourteen weeks,” Henry said with a grin. “Officially in the second trimester.”

Had the weeks really passed that quickly? It felt like Henry had announced he was pregnant only yesterday. Dennis rubbed a hand smoothly over the taut skin of Henry’s stomach, their little Raspberry feeling more like the size of a little peach now.

He wanted the two of them to savor these moments and revel in the joy of this pregnancy as much as they could, as time seemed to already be passing in the blink of an eye.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing we’re telling them tonight,” Dennis smiled, patting Henry’s tummy. “I don’t think you’d be able to hide this for very much longer.”

Weeks ago, they agreed that they should wait until Henry entered his second trimester before telling anyone the news. It felt safer that way.

Last week, they called Henry’s mother, Ruth, and his stepfather, Alan, in Sarasota. Henry really would’ve rather told them in person, but their distance couldn’t be helped. Ruth was ecstatic about becoming a grandma, and it made Henry’s heart swell with happiness.

But, it made him sad, too.  As far as he knew, she had been having more good days than bad as of late, forgetting little things here and there as opposed to huge chunks of her reality. But Henry knew that was viable to change easily, just as it had before. He could call her tomorrow and she might not have any idea who he was.

It depended on the day, and his mother’s days had to be taken one at a time and tread through lightly. He just hoped she would still be in her “good place” when the baby was born. After all, she and Alan would be the only grandparents this child had.

Dennis hadn’t spoken to his parents in almost ten years. He didn’t have the closest relationship with them anyway, but his coming out was the straw that finally broke the camel’s back. He was about to head off for college and they threatened to cut him off financially if he didn’t “change his mind”.

He kindly suggested they stick their money where the sun didn’t shine and cut ties right then. He moved out soon after, thus putting the dysfunctional Zalewski family dynamic to rest once and for all.

The disconnection from them only pushed him harder in pursuing his law enforcement dreams, which would have made his hot-shot investment banker of a father turn up his nose.

To Dennis, that was just the final nail in the coffin, the farewell “fuck you”.

His family had no knowledge of their son’s life and Dennis wasn’t too terribly bothered by it, almost preferring it. Henry was his family, and he insisted that was all he needed.

Still, it broke Henry’s heart all the same. How could you not accept your own child for who they were?

Tonight, they were having Molly and Declan over for dinner with the intention of announcing the pregnancy. McGrady’s didn’t feel intimate enough of a place to deliver news like that.  

“You know Molly’s gonna lose her shit, right?” Dennis laughed.

Henry nodded. “Oh, yeah… I’m trying to brace myself.”

With a sigh, he brought his shirt back down over his stomach and turned to Dennis. “It’s just…exciting to finally have something to tell them.”

Dennis smiled and pulled Henry close. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We should probably spill it quick, too…before Molly has a chance to find the wine.”

“Good point.”

~*~*~*~

Molly screamed like the victim in a slasher film when Henry told them, though part of him wondered if she was already suspecting. As soon as they arrived, she kept an eerily close eye on him as if in desperate search of something.

Dennis must’ve noticed it too because he and Henry kept sharing amused glances, and eventually Henry decided to just bite the bullet.  

When the words “I’m pregnant” came out of his mouth, Molly sprang up from the couch, bouncing up and down on her feet like a little kid on way too much sugar.

“ _Oh, my God!!”_  she shrieked, running over to Henry and squeezing her arms around him. “Oh, my God, I  _knew_ it!! I knew it, I knew it!! I told Declan on the way over here, I said ‘Henry’s  _gotta_ be pregnant, I can feel it’. Oh, I’m so happy for you, sweetie!!”

She released Henry and went straight for the attack on Dennis, who jokingly tried to run out of the living room, but he let her grab him and put him in a vice hold just as tight.

Declan chuckled at his wife as he got up from the couch. “Guess I should reign her in,” he said, pulling Henry into a quick hug. “Congrats, man.”

“Thanks,” Henry said, his smile stretching brightly from ear to ear. Molly had pried herself from Dennis by the time Declan made his way over to him and was trying to fan the flush in her cheeks with her hand.

“Oh, gosh,” she said breathlessly, coming to hug Henry again. “Best news I’ve heard all  _month_!” 

Henry hugged her back and glanced over at Dennis, who gave him a reassuring smile and thumbs up. Molly eventually pulled away from him, but took a firm hold of his shoulders.

“Please tell me you have wine,” she said seriously.

“You know I do,” Henry replied.

“Good! We gotta talk, c’mon…”

With that, Molly grabbed Henry’s hand and dragged him toward the kitchen, leaving their husbands in the living room. Molly tore off her corduroy jacked and tossed it over the back of one the island chairs before opening the fridge to scavenge.

Henry went to one of the cabinets to fish out a wine glass for her, setting it down on the island counter and taking the corkscrew out of her hand just as she was about to work it onto the top of the new bottle of red wine she pulled in the fridge.

“You’re my guest. Sit,” he instructed.

“Oooh, a gentleman…” Molly cooed, hoisting herself into one of the chairs. She bounced in her seat giddily as Henry wound the screw into the top of the cork, quickly glancing behind her to make sure there were no listening ears before she spoke.

“So!” she said, resting her chin in both hands.

“So…” Henry repeated coyly.

“Once again, ‘taking a break’ from making a baby proves to be the sure-fire way to make a baby.”

“I don’t know about ‘sure-fire’…” Henry replied, prying the cork out of the bottle and tipping it into the glass. “But I do know that’s what  _we_  needed.”

“And it happened, just like Aunt Molly said it would!” Molly giggles as she takes a sip of wine.

Henry looked up at her with wide eyes. “Now,  _that’s_  a scary thought…’Aunt Molly’.”

“Hey, I have to be the positive influence for my kids; that’s my job as ‘mom’. But the fun aunt doesn’t have that responsibility! I can project all of the rebellious energy I’m  _not_  using to keep my kids out of jail onto someone else’s kid.”

“Yeah, because Dennis would much rather arrest  _our_ kid,” Henry mused.

Molly shrugged. “If they can’t use my teachings wisely, that’s on them.”

Henry just laughed as he got a glass out of the cabinet for himself, filling it with ice and water from the dispenser on the freezer door. Molly swiveled the wine around in her glass and took another sip before giving Henry a soft smile.

“When did you find out?”

“About a month ago,” Henry replied, resting a hand on his stomach. “I’m fourteen weeks now.”

“Oh, my God, Henry! That’s great!” she exclaimed.

“We would’ve told you sooner, but we wanted to wait until after the first trimester,” Henry said. “Ya know, just to make sure everything was okay.”

Molly nodded. “Always a good idea. So, everything’s alright? The baby’s good?”

Henry turned around and plucked a couple of papers off of the magnetic clip on the door of the fridge, pulling out the photo from his first ultrasound he’d hidden behind them. He and Dennis made sure to leave nothing out that might spoil their chance to tell them the news.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Henry grinned, handing her the photo.

“Ooh, gimme!” Molly gasped, her eyes glinting happily as she takes it from his hands and studies it. “Aww, look at that!”

“That was at nine weeks,” Henry informed her.  

“Aw, sweet baby…” Molly cooed, then turned in her chair and yelled toward the living room. “Hey! Declan, come here!”

Eventually, Declan and Dennis sauntered out into the hall and made their way toward the kitchen.

“You screeched for me, dear?” Declan said as he came up behind Molly’s chair.

Molly practically shoved the photo in Declan’s face. “I just thought you’d like a little glimpse of your niece or nephew.” Declan took the photo out of Molly’s hand and looked at it carefully, a tiny smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

Then, Molly whipped back around. “Oh! Do you know what it is?? A _niece_  or a  _nephew_?”

Dennis came to stand next to Henry, snaking an arm around the small of his back. “We don’t. We decided we want it to be a surprise.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet!” Molly squealed. “We wanted to do that with Keira, but we just couldn’t wait.”

“Correction,  _you_  couldn’t wait,” Declan said, setting the photo down on the counter of the island.

“Patience isn’t a strong suit of mine,” Molly shrugged.

“Among other things,” Declan muttered, earning a slap in the chest from Molly.

Dennis pulled Henry into him a little closer and Henry slipped his hand into the back pocket of Dennis’ jeans. They shared a loving smile as they stood there watching their friends playfully bicker with one another.

Molly and Declan had two little girls, Keira and Charley, who were the sweetest little things they’d ever seen. “Uncle Henry” and “Uncle Dennis” absolutely adored them and only reaffirmed their desire to have little ones of their own. It was still surreal to them that, in just a few short months, that dream would become a reality.

Dennis gently patted Henry’s stomach and turned to Molly. “He has a belly now. Did he show you?”

Molly met Henry with wild eyes. “No, he didn’t!”

Henry’s cheeks immediately turned pink as he gave Dennis a slanted look. He was wearing one of his baggier sweaters, knowing it would comfortably conceal the little bit of a bump he did have. With both hands, he smoothed the sweater down around his belly, making it noticeably pop out.

Molly’s jaw dropped and she clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh, look at you!!”

Dennis brought a hand to rest on Henry’s bump. “And this wasn’t here yesterday!”

“Wow…I remember, I was showing really early with Keira. Charley took a little longer,” Molly shook her head as she took Henry in. “But you look amazing, Henry! You’re going to see so many changes, and before you know it, they’ll be kicking you all over and…ooh, I can’t wait!”

“Neither can we,” Dennis said leaning over to give Henry a quick kiss on the cheek. Once again, Henry blushed as he moved his hands away from his stomach.

“You want a beer?” Dennis then asked Declan, turning toward the fridge.

“Is that even a question?” Declan answered.

He reached into the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer, popping the top off one of them before handing it over to Declan. He opened his own and took a hearty swig, glancing up to see Henry giving him a narrowed look out of the corner of his eye.

Dennis lifted his eyebrows in question as Henry picked up his glass of ice water and brought it to his lips with a smirk.

“I can’t believe all of you are drinking in front of me. I mean…it’s just rude,” Henry teased.

Molly scoffed, holding up her glass. “You _gave_ this to me!”

“I didn’t think you’d actually take it! I was just trying to be a good host.”

Dennis placed his hand on Henry’s hip and started to guide him toward a chair next to Molly. “Well, you’re done being host for the night,” he said. “You just sit down here so I can start dinner.”

“But I can—” Henry began to protest.

“No,” Dennis interrupted. “You don’t worry about it. It’s just pasta, you boil water. I got this.”

Henry eventually sighed in defeat as he took a seat next to Molly. “So pushy…” he smarted off to her.

“They are,” Molly agreed gravely, taking another swig of wine.

Declan cleared his throat as he rested a hand on Molly’s shoulder. “Well, we are just over the moon for you. We know you guys have wanted this for a long time.”

Molly nodded solemnly and took hold of Henry’s hand, who gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Parenthood is…” Declan pondered. “It’s a wild ride, I’m tellin’ ya. You have no idea what each day is going to bring, and you just have to put your game face on and take every tidal wave as it comes. It truly is the most exhausting, frustrating job in the world…but it is so absolutely worth it.”

Henry and Dennis share a smile across the island counter.

“And, remember, you’ll always have _us_ ,” Molly said. “Whatever you need, whenever you need it, we’ll be there. You’re never going to be alone.” Henry tightened his hold on Molly’s hand.

“So, congratulations, you guys. That’s one lucky kid you got coming…” Declan said, raising his bottle of beer. “To Baby Zalewski!”

Everyone else raised their drink high above their heads, both Henry and Dennis fighting to hold back their happy tears as they repeated after Declan.

“To Baby Zalewski!”  


	7. We

The street light shining outside the window casted a hazy orange glow into Dennis’ bedroom, but that wasn’t what was keeping him awake. It was nearing two in morning and he hadn’t slept a wink, despite his best efforts.

The silence around him was barely discernable when paired with all of the noise inside his head. It was like all the voices and faces and moments of the day mashed themselves together into a shrieking monster that refused to recede to the back of his brain, demanding his attention.

The past few days had just been too weird, too unnerving to be put quietly to rest.

From his lumpy pillow, Dennis stared up at the ceiling, the overly soft mattress practically swallowing him like quick sand. The environment at work had been…intense, at almost every angle.

There were the higher-ups, like the warden and the lieutenants who spent the majority of their time making sure no one on the outside caught wind of their little friend found in the basement. If the media got ahold of a story like that, Shawshank would not only be dead, but forcefully executed.

There were the inmates, who for the most part, had forgotten all about ol’ “Nic Cage” and didn’t pay him much attention. But there were the troublesome few who believed he was looked upon more favorably due to the circumstances and let their grievances be known. The complaints fell on deaf ears, as if one con could be favored over another, anyway.

And then there were the guards. Or rather, one guard whose annoyance at the situation was beginning to veer on the side of aggressive. He and Boyd still worked as partners, but they weren’t as chummy as they had previously been, and Dennis knew it had everything to do with Henry, he just didn’t know why.

Boyd’s behavior wasn’t _that_ out of the norm for him, but the obvious disdain he held toward Henry in particular was unusual. Was Dennis really slacking _that_  much, or was Boyd bothered by something else? Did it really matter?

Dennis felt as if he had to split himself into two separate people: Officer Zalewski, the guard with an obligation to serve Shawshank, and Dennis, the man who felt an almost paralyzing need to aid the pitiable creature discovered in the prison’s depths.

In truth, he wasn’t responsible for Henry, not in the least bit. But… _he_  was the one who found him, and some twisted, demented part of him felt as if Henry was _his_. What kind of fucked up thought was that?

He sat up in bed with an irritated sigh, formally surrendering in the ongoing battle of sleep. He pushes himself off of the mattress and stumbles into the little bathroom that’s attached to the side of the bedroom. The nightlight next to the sink brightens the room just enough to make out the shape of the toilet in the corner, and he goes to relieve himself despite not really needing to.

Once he’s finished, he pivots around to the sink and turns on the faucet. His hands form a bowl under the cold stream of water, waiting until he’s cupped a generous amount before splashing it onto his face. Blinking through the water in his lashes, he paws for the hand towel hanging on the rack by the mirrored medicine cabinet.

He pats the access water from his cheeks as his eyes flit up to the mirror, a startled scream ripping from his throat. Throwing himself back far enough to fall against the sliding shower door, he presses a hard rub to each of his eyes before he dares to look at the mirror again.

Heart pounding against his rib-cage, he inches closer to the medicine cabinet only to see his own terrified reflection. The breath shudders out of his lungs as he quickly looks away and then back again, just to make sure. Yep, still him.

He was seeing things, obviously; that happened to everyone. The mind enjoyed playing tricks, especially at night when people were more vulnerable, their fears laid bare for the boogeyman to feast on. But he could swear to the almighty God right here and now just how real it seemed, his conviction so strong that perhaps, for a split second, it wasn’t a trick at all.

He sharply peers into the mirror again, staring deeply into the contours of his reflection in the darkness, wondering how, in that first glance, he saw Henry’s face instead of his own.

~*~*~*~

Thick, billowy clouds hid the hot morning sun, making their walk around the prison yard a bit more tolerable than it had been few days ago. The July humidity was still going strong, unfortunately, but having one was better than having both.

Dennis yawned deeply, fighting to keep his lids up as he watched Henry scuttle a couple of feet in front him, still clinging to the chain link fence as he went.

His plan to venture out earlier in the mornings had proven to be a good one. Not a soul was out here yet, and he could visibly see the Henry’s unease dissolve in the isolation. Dennis decided they would go back inside once the yard really started to fill up after breakfast, just to keep Henry from getting too overwhelmed.

That’s what he told himself, anyway. He knew the real reason had more to do with avoiding Boyd, if at all possible. They’d done well to steer clear of him so far, but Dennis didn’t want to push their luck.

He hits a bit of a jog as he snaps out of his haze long enough to notice that Henry is quite a bit ahead of him. Settling next to him, Dennis pants to catch his breath as he tries to keep time with Henry’s steps. It wasn’t that he was fast, but his strides were long and his pace was difficult to keep up with.

The clouds part above them just enough for the sun to peak through and the heat is instantaneous. Beads of sweat bubble up across Dennis hairline and he wipes them away with the cuff of his uniform shirt.

He figures Henry can’t be much more comfortable in his thick jeans and cotton button-down, and he’s about to tell him it’s time to go back in when Henry suddenly says, “I love that smell.”

It takes Dennis a few seconds to realize Henry even spoke, and when he does, he finds himself baffled by the statement. He looks at Henry curiously, though Henry doesn’t look back at him. It’s as if he said it to himself. Maybe he did.

“What smell?” Dennis asks.

“The grass,” Henry replies. “They just mowed; you can smell it.”

Dennis sniffs a couple of times and finds that Henry is right. The grass is very freshly cut, and he finds it odd that he didn’t notice the pungent scent of it before now. It made him realize once again how much of life was taken for granted, even something as small and insignificant as a smell.

He wondered how long it had been since Henry had smelled grass, or smelled anything that wasn’t damp, molded basement.

“They must’ve mowed this morning,” Dennis says lamely. He didn’t know what else to say to that.

“I like to mow…” Henry says, his fingers trickling against the links in the fence.

Dennis chuckled. “Man, I hate it. Grass flying everywhere, getting in your eyes and staining your shoes… I put it off for as long as I can.”

Of course, Henry already knew that. Every spring and summer, he took on the duty of mowing the lawns since Dennis so adamantly opposed it. It would always come to a point where Dennis would feel guilty for making Henry do it all and volunteered to take over, but Henry wouldn’t allow it.

He liked the lawn to look a certain way, mowed with straight and symmetrical lines, whereas Dennis moved in whatever way he felt would make him get done faster. Henry considered lawn work to be a labor of love and didn’t mind all that went into it. So, they had a deal; Henry would make the inside and outside of the house look nice, while Dennis handled all the mechanical stuff Henry didn’t know the first thing about.

 It was one of those beautiful things in a marriage called “compromise”.

“It does smell kinda good, though,” Dennis said. “You know what I’ve always liked the smell of?”

 _Burning leaves_ , Henry answers in his head. On the outside, he turns to Dennis with a vacant stare.

“Burning leaves,” Dennis says. “I don’t know what it is, really. It’s…earthy. Comforting, almost. I just like fall, I think. And that’s a fall smell.”

Henry nodded. “Fall is my favorite. I like the colors.”

This was the most Henry had ever divulged about himself and the more he said, the more Dennis wanted to hear. He had a thousand questions swimming around in his head –  _Who are you? Where did you come from? How did you know my name?_  – but in asking, he feared Henry would only shut down again.

Maybe those answers would come in good time. Right now, a trust had to be built. Besides, Dennis wanted to know about him, even the most miniscule of things like his favorite food or what hobbies he had. There was just something fascinating about him, a fixation Dennis couldn’t seem to shake.

“Well,” Dennis says. “It’ll be here before too long. Then you can come outside and enjoy the colors all you want.”

A memory then started to play through Henry’s mind like old film on a reel, so clear and so vivid that it nearly brought tears to his eyes.

“We used to drive out by the turnpike every fall, to see the leaves when they started changing,” Henry says. “It was a little tradition we had.”

He doesn’t realize he’s actually said it out loud until Dennis inquires.

“Who’s ‘we’?”

A stone drops into the pit of Henry’s stomach and he immediately comes to a halt, his fingers wrapping around the fence to hold him in place.  _Shit. Shit, shit…_ He’d said too much and questions were being asked, questions he couldn’t answer.

“You have family?” Dennis asks.

Henry shakes his head, his heart racing.

“Really?” Dennis says doubtfully. “No parents or siblings…anything?”

Henry shakes his head again and Dennis deflates a little. He crossed the line, just like he feared, and now Henry would shrink back into his silence. But _he’s_  the one who said it…he said ‘we’. That meant there was someone, someone who knew him and had to know where he was.

“Okay," Dennis says. "What about a…a wife?”

When Henry’s face appears to wince painfully at the word, Dennis knows he’s struck some kind of nerve. He inches closer to Henry, trying to read through the distress on his face though his eyes do their best to avoid him.

“Is that it?” Dennis gently prods. “You have a wife? Does she know where you are?”

“No,” Henry bites back, hoping Dennis will just drop it and leave him be.

But Dennis keeps pushing. He’s on the verge of a breakthrough, he can feel it.

“Henry, I can’t help you if you don’t help me, okay? If there’s someone out there who’s missing you—“

Henry’s head snaps toward him, his eyes practically black as they slice into him like a blade. But to Dennis’ surprise, his expression is more hurt than it is angry.

“I don’t have a wife,” Henry says quietly. “I have a husband.”

A moment of awkward silence passes between them and Henry can see the tips of Dennis’ ears going red as he soaks in this new bit of information.

“Oh,” Dennis replies bashfully. “Well…does _he_ know where you are?”

The hardness in Henry’s eyes softens into what almost looks like a plea, a longing, and Dennis can feel the breath depleting from his lungs little by little as the silent seconds tick by. Finally, Henry casts his eyes down at the ground and shakes his head, leaving Dennis with a strange empty feeling.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”

Henry’s shoulders hunched slightly, as if he’s willing himself to shrink. Up ahead, Dennis sees a few of the other inmates coming out of the side door with their guard escorts and he takes a step back from Henry. No need to draw attention to themselves.

He checks his wrist watch and see’s that it’s nearing 8:15. They should probably head inside if they want to catch breakfast. They can continue this later.

“Hey, let’s go in now,” Dennis sighs, tapping Henry’s arm. “It’s breakfast time.”

“He’s gone…” Henry says.

Dennis blinks at him. “What?”

“M-my husband… He’s gone,” Henry mutters sadly. “Has been for years.”

An unexpected pang of sadness strikes Dennis straight in the heart, the meaning of “gone” written all over Henry’s face.

“Damn…” he sighs, wiping a hand down his sweat covered face. “I’m real sorry to hear that.”

Dennis had lost a few loved ones during his life – grandparents, an aunt, even a couple of dogs he considered family – but he couldn’t fathom the pain of losing a spouse or, god forbid, a child. It was unfortunately something that happened in the world every day, but he didn’t know how a loss like that could even be stomached.

He looked at Henry, who had been through so much, and wondered how he was even standing. He was certainly a stronger man; if Dennis were in his place, he would’ve crumbled to dust by now.

“How long were you married?”

Henry lifts his head, closing his eyes and letting the warm morning breeze blow gently against his face. “Seven years,” he sniffs. “Together for ten.”

“Wow,” Dennis replies, shifting awkwardly on his feet.

More inmates begin to file out of the building and he sees Henry start to physically retreat within himself. Dennis takes hold of his arm and begins walking him toward the door they came out of.

As they walk, he contemplates the conversation they just had. He couldn’t believe there was _no one_ in this world for Henry. How was that possible? It wasn’t as if he just appeared out of thin air; everyone came from somewhere, and had somebody. He was happy that Henry was finally talking, but he now found himself with even more questions than he had before.

He knows it’s a long shot, but he figures he’ll ask anyway. There was something Henry wasn’t telling him, and Dennis was nearing on desperate to find out what it was. There had to be someone with a link to him.

“Did you guys have kids?”

Henry’s mouth goes immediately dry, and for a second, he thinks he might vomit despite having almost nothing in his system. His heart wants so badly to tell Dennis the truth, to finally pour out all of the pain he’s been harboring inside of him for so many years.

More than that, he wants Dennis to _remember,_ to remember him and the life they’d built together and what almost was. He _needs_ him to. He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it in the same breath. He can’t tell him, he won’t.

For all Dennis knew, Henry’s husband was dead. And he supposed, in this world, he really was...along with everything that made them who they were. None of that existed here, and he would have to go on with the memory of what was and would never be again.

“No,” he finally said. “We didn’t have any kids.”


	8. Lost

In the hospital bed, he was curled up on his side and facing the wall so he wouldn’t have to see anyone. As his aching, swollen eyes stare blankly ahead, he absently wonders... If he coils himself tightly enough, will it prevent anyone from seeing  _ him?  _ It was a welcome thought, at least.

The white, sterile room buzzed with the hum of the fluorescent lights above him, coupled in annoyance with the repetitive beeps of the monitors he was hooked up to. They were a subtle noise, but just grating enough to nearly drive him mad. He brought a palm up to each ear in hopes to drown it out. It only seemed to make it louder. 

He had been left alone for only a few minutes now, with no company but his own thoughts, and that was quickly becoming a dangerous game. He had no idea where Dennis had gone; off talking to a doctor somewhere, he presumed. Still, Dennis should know better than to leave him by himself in light of something like this.

He tried to think of other things, to force his mind away from the horror that was happening, but it was impossible. Why should he be so lucky to try to forget about it anyway, if even for a moment? This was happening, this was real...but he couldn’t understand why.

Why couldn’t  _ he _ have been the one to die?

For Henry and Dennis, the day had gone as it always did. They woke up early to have breakfast together, they went their separate ways to work, then came home and ate dinner before watching a little TV and going to bed. Business as usual. 

Henry had never once felt anything out of the ordinary happening within him. The baby had just begun to move a few weeks ago, so little twinges and flutters here and there were to be expected. 

What he didn’t expect was to be woken up just a few minutes past midnight with searing pain tearing through his abdomen and to find their bed sheets so stained with blood, they were nearly black. 

He begged Dennis not to take him to the hospital. Not only did he not need the expertise of a doctor to tell him what was happening, but even more than that, he didn’t know if he could bear to hear it confirmed.

But no amount of pleading could stop Dennis from dragging him out of their soiled bed, throwing him into the car and bringing him here, forcing him to kneel at the mercy of the horrendous truth.

Countless times he’d reminded himself that, had the tables been turned, he would’ve done the very same thing Dennis had. Dennis did exactly what he was supposed to do. But that fact didn’t make him any less angry. 

When the doctor actually said the word “miscarriage”, Henry’s mind shut itself off, and his body followed suit. Everyone started talking to him at once, the doctors, the nurses, Dennis. They spoke to him, but he couldn’t hear them, couldn’t understand anything they were saying. 

He could barely even see them clearly anymore. His entire universe seemed to collapse on itself in that moment and he felt as if he was trapped in a pit, collecting every scrap of the debris. The weight of it grew heavier with every passing minute; he could no longer move beneath it. 

The only thing left for him to do was to accept what was. But he couldn’t do that yet.

Quietly, he heard Dennis sneak back into the room. Henry lied as still as he could, listening as Dennis shuffled around the room, clearly unable to settle. 

“Fuck…” he sighs sadly, his voice cracking tearfully. 

And, like it always did, the sound of Dennis’ pain broke Henry into a million pieces.

He covers his face and begins to sob, still frozen to his position on the bed so Dennis wouldn’t have to see him cry.

“Oh, God…” he heard Dennis say right before he threw his body on top of Henry’s, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. 

Henry held himself together tightly, letting Dennis hold him but not really wanting him to. He felt Dennis pressing kisses into his hair and trying to console him and it just made him weep harder, to the point where he wasn’t able to make a sound. 

The force of his cries choked him and he couldn’t make himself breathe. For a second, he wondered if this pain would kill him...and then sent a silent prayer to God to make it so.

“It’s okay, babe, I got you. I got you, I’m so sorry…” Dennis mutters into his hair, now crying himself. “We’ll get through this, I promise.”

Henry hiccups and gulps through his tears, his lungs beginning to burn. “I can’t… I can’t breathe,” he croaks, gasping for air. 

Dennis vigorously starts rubbing his back. “Just try to calm down, okay? Inhale, slowly.”

_ “I CAN’T!!” _ Henry screeches, his body trembling and jerking beneath Dennis. “I ca-- I can’t--”

“Shit!” Dennis hisses and jumps up from the bed, running out into the hallway in a panic. “Hey!! Can I get a nurse?! Somebody!  _ Help _ !”

An alarm starts going off in the room then, and the blare of it quickly grows dim as Henry’s vision suddenly goes black. 

~*~*~*~

An hour later, Henry is sitting up in bed, trying to take steady breaths through the cannula they forced into his nose.

Dennis watches him diligently from a chair in the corner of the room, bouncing both legs nervously as he stares. Neither of them have said anything to one another in at least half an hour. 

Henry had never had an anxiety attack before, but he was sure it was the closest to dying he’d ever felt. They’d doped him with something to calm him down, then hooked him up to an oxygen tank since his own levels were all out of whack. Not to mention the fact that he was dehydrated anyway from all the blood loss. 

He hadn’t the slightest clue what they’d stuck in his IV, but at the moment, he felt as if he were half-dead. It was as if his mind was begging him to sleep, but his body wouldn’t allow it, shocking him back to consciousness when he tried to close his eyes and escape. He no longer had control.That was just as well, he thought. His body had betrayed him, failed him...he didn’t want it anymore.

He looks down at his hand and absently picks at the square of surgical tape holding the IV needle into his skin. 

“Wh… What did they give me?” he slurs, more to himself than to Dennis. 

Dennis was on his feet immediately, stepping over to his husband anxiously. 

“Um… I don’t know. Why? Are you okay?”

Inch by careful inch, Henry starts pulling the tape away from the surface of his skin. 

“No…” he replies dully. 

Dennis places his palm onto the top of Henry’s hand to keep him from pulling the tape off further. “Leave that alone. You need it.”

Henry was silent for a second, his glassy eyes staring straight ahead and aching too much to cry anymore. 

“No,” he says. “I don’t need anything.”

The words make Dennis’ heart drop and he has to force down the lump forming in his throat. Taking Henry’s hand, he sits down on the edge of the bed and they stay like that for a while, listening to beeps of the monitors and the hospital commotion happening around them. Finally, unnerved by such deafening quiet, Dennis looks at Henry with a sigh.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

Henry’s eyes stay planted on the wall on the far side of the room, not acknowledging that Dennis even spoke to him. Dennis tightens his hold on Henry’s hand.

“Henry…” he says. “Please.”

Henry closes his eyes as tears form on his lashes and spill over, running down his cheeks. 

He shakes his head. “I don’t have anything to say. Not right now.”

“We just lost a child, Henry,” Dennis says. “I think we should talk about that, ya know. I, for one, would  _ like _ to.”

“I  _ said _ … not right now,” Henry bites back, his chin starting to wobble. “I just...I can’t. Please, I can’t...”

Dennis grabs him and pulls him into a tight embrace, cursing himself for trying to push Henry to do anything after what he’d just been through. 

“I’m sorry…” Dennis whispers. “I’m so sorry…”

Henry presses his forehead into Dennis’ shoulder, letting tears soak into the soft fabric of his shirt. “I can’t, Dennis,” he moans.

“I know…” Dennis says. “We don’t have to now. There’s plenty of time…”

Though he tries to hold it in, Henry lets himself once again fall apart in Dennis’ arms and Dennis rocks him gently, letting it happen. If he’s not going to talk, he figures coming unglued is an acceptable alternative. He’s letting it all out somehow.

When his cries diminish to mere sniffs, Dennis lets go of him to give him some air. Henry furiously wipes at his swollen eyes and tries to steady his breathing again. Dennis runs a hand down his cheek, wiping away any tears that may still remain.

“Should we call anyone? At least let them know what happened?” Dennis asks.

Henry shook his head. “Later… I don’t want anyone else right now. Just you.”

Dennis smiles sadly and places a kiss on his husband’s forehead. His eyes skirt around the room, his gaze landing on the clock, which now read that it was nearing 2:30 in the morning. 

“You should try to sleep,” Dennis says. 

“I don’t know if I can,” Henry replies.

“Let’s try, okay?” Dennis says, relieved when Henry nods in compliance. He grabs the bed’s remote and presses down on a button, lowering the mattress. 

Once he gets it down as far as it will go, Henry lies down and gently pulls on Dennis’ arm to lie next to him. They wrap their arms around one another and settle themselves into the bed as comfortably as they can, and Dennis pulls a string to turn off the light that’s shining just behind them. 

They lie quietly in the dark, the melancholy soundtrack of the machines whirring and beeping in the background. The semblance of peace they’re forcing upon themselves only lasts a few minutes, as Henry once again begins to quietly sob into Dennis’ shoulder. 

Dennis just pulls him closer and begins to cry with him, knowing full well that neither of them will get even a wink of sleep tonight. 


End file.
